


36 Questions That Lead to Love

by Rainbow_Femme



Category: Fargo (2014), Wrenchers - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, falling in love fic, getting together fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Femme/pseuds/Rainbow_Femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Numbers finds an article on the study by Dr. Arthur Aron that claims any two people can fall in love by asking each other a set of 36 questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

Numbers sighed loudly and threw the decorative wicker ball between his hands. They had decided to splurge and upgrade to a hotel instead of the usual motel, but the slight change of scenery did nothing to impede the usual boredom that had once again begun to set in. Nothing on tv, and if they wanted a movie they would be forced to pay ridiculous fees, leaving them with crap wifi and 14 hours to kill before they could make their call back to Fargo and head home.

Wrench, for his part, had been staring at the generic hotel artwork for upwards of an hour, seeming to analyze every inch of the slightly out of focus mountain-side shack and water wheel. Numbers was tempted to throw something out the window, but they were locked shut. He wondered if that was a universal policy or if he wasn't the first to have this idea.

He sighed and returned the ball to its home, a wicker bowl with even more wicker balls, all as ugly and unnecessary as the next. Pushing himself up, he grabbed his laptop and tried to find something interesting on the uncommon news pages he enjoyed frequenting. Scrolling through pages of strange archaeological digs and ugly fish found at the bottoms of oceans, he paused at a headline, following the link with some mild interest. He reached over and flicked the lamp on and off a few times, getting Wrench's attention. "Found something cool."

Wrench yawned and sat up, cracking his neck before walking over to Number's bed and plopping next to him, signing lazily. "What?"

"This doctor A-r-o-n guy claims he found a way to make anybody fall in love." He pointed to the article, complete with a link to the study and the supposed magical 36 questions. "Apparently he took two strangers and had them do it. The got married, invited him to their wedding."

Wrench frowned. "How?"

Numbers shrugged, skimming the article. "Don't know. Only took 90 minutes though."

Wrench snorted derisively. "Bullshit." He sat back, trying to look nonchalant despite his curiosity. 

Numbers nodded, closing his laptop. "Yeah, you're probably right." However, two hours and one six-pack later, the boredom had become unbearable. The partners grabbed another six pack and settled into the well worn chairs at the kitchenette.

"Ok..." Numbers scrolled to the question section on his laptop, "Question one: Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

Wrench took a sip of his beer, leaning back, thinking. "My grandfather. I never met him, but my mother always said I reminded her of him." He looked into his drink thoughtfully before looking up. "What about you?"

Numbers chuckled. "Remember that guy we killed last may, in that cabin with all the t-a-x-i-d-e-r-m-y? Always thought a conversation with him would have been fun." Wrench smiled and nodded, looking at the second question.

"Would you like to be famous? In what way?"

Numbers shrugged, thinking. "I don't think so. I like my life, I like my... This." He gestured around himself, brain a little fuzzy from the alcohol. "I'm not much for friends or crowds. I've got you, I'm good there. I prefer quiet. What about you?"

Wrench blushed slightly. "It's dumb, but part of me always wanted to be known for being a deaf hitman. People always tried to tell me what I couldn't do because I can't hear, I wish I could prove to people I can still DO things, you know?" 

Numbers smiled. "Yeah, I know." He wanted to say more, tell Wrench that he never believed for a second there was anything he couldn't do, but it seemed like too much, even for two guys trying to see if they could fall in love through a series of questions. "So, number three. May need to amend this one, though."

Wrench frowned, finishing his beer. "What is it?" He leaned forward, reading the question. "Oh yeah, cause I can't call people. Maybe just 'Do you ever rehearse what you're going to say to people' in general, not just for telephone calls. Well, I know you do." He smirked, remembering how Numbers always hyped himself up before calling their victims.

Numbers chuckled, kicking his shin. "I do sometimes, when it's important. If I need to sound scary, I need to practice. You haven't heard my voice, but it doesn't exactly instill fear. I gotta work up to it."

Wrench grinned. "I don't really practice, you just translate it however you want anyway, what do I care?" He opened a second beer. "Four?"

Numbers nodded. "What is a perfect day? Well for me, probably a sunny day, a n-u-d-e beach, and some rum in a coconut. Pretty much the opposite of this." He gestured to the room, including the snow falling in abundance outside. "What about yours?"

Wrench looked away, waving his hand vaguely, suddenly more closed off. "I don't know. Never really thought about it." Numbers frowned, tempted to ask what was wrong, but he knew Wrench enough not to. The larger man was rubbing his hands together, fidgeting with his fingers.

He scrolled to the next question. "This one is a bit tough too. When was the last time you sang to yourself?"

Wrench smiled a little. "I like signing along to songs sometimes, so I'll count that. I did it yesterday, while you were getting something from the corner store. It was The Kinks, I think." His smile widened. "And I know the last time you did." He mimed operatic singing, placing a hand to his heart dramatically. Numbers chuckled, confiscating his beer. 

"You're a dick. You were supposed to be showering, not spying on me." He put a hand to his growling stomach. "I'm going to go call for a pizza. We can pick this back up when it gets here." He got up and grabbed his phone, looking in the mirror in time to see Wrench sign "Make sure to practice before you call, make sure you sound scary enough."

-

Wrench watched Numbers order from a menu they had picked up earlier that day, leaning back in his chair. The beer had left a pleasant fog in his brain, but their interlude was giving him plenty of time imagining Numbers on his perfect beach, sunscreen smeared on his nose and sipping rum. He tilted his head slightly, wondering if Numbers would be nude on the beach as well, or if he would just prefer the view. He had seen Numbers naked before, it just happened when you were sharing rooms with someone for extended amounts of time, so it wasn't hard to imagine. His face heated and he tried thinking of something else. This was just supposed to be a dumb activity to pass time. Numbers had no interest beyond that, so he wouldn't either. It would probably be best if he sobered up, though. 

Numbers returned shortly with a large pizza and an orange soda for Wrench, turning back to the laptop for the next question. "Ok, here we go. If you could live to be 90 and r-e-t-a-i-n either the mind or body of a 30 year old, which would you choose."

Wrench snorted, taking a large bite. "Body. My mind's not great enough to want to keep." He shoved the rest of the piece in his mouth, smiling around the mouthful to demonstrate what he meant, making Numbers laugh.

He grinned. "Come on, you're not that bad. You're not as smart as ME, but..." He dodged a fake punch from Wrench. "I would probably do the same. Keeping my hair would be worth it."

"Oh yes, it's certainly worth it I'm sure."

Numbers flipped him off. "Smart ass. Number seven, do you have a secret hunch about how you will die." Wrench pantomimed being shot, "dying" face down on the table. Numbers poked his head, signing that he was with him on that one and moved to the next question. "Eight, name three things you and your partner have in common. Well, we both think we're going to die the same way, we have the same job, and..." He looked at Wrench, figuring the obvious wasn't what he was supposed to be commenting on. "And I don't think either of us would rather be here with anyone else. God knows I'd have blown anyone else's brains out." He tried tempering the heaviness of the statement with a joking smile, but the look Wrench gave him made him pause. He seemed moved, but also wanted to downplay how the statement had affected him. Numbers guessed that was another thing they had in common, then.

Wrench finished another slice before wiping his hands off. "We both like our job, we work well together, and we're both the best hitmen F-a-r-g-o ever had."

Numbers took a bite, trying to ignore the deeper change the questions had taken. "What are you most grateful for?"

Wrench rubbed his hands together before answering. "This job. I never thought I'd be considered an asset anywhere. People usually told me I wouldn't ever do much, said I didn't have any usable skills. Being helpful, fitting in, it's nice."

Numbers smiled a little. "That's what I'm grateful for too. No other job ever fit." 

Wrench nodded. "I can't see you in any other job. Flipping burgers with one of those little hats on doesn't suit you." He dodged the piece of crust lobbed at him, smiling. He didn't want to say it, but Numbers was his favorite part of the job. He had expected to enjoy the work, but never to make a friend. He wouldn't tell Numbers that though, he did not need the ego boost. "What's next?"

Numbers turned back to the screen, in a much better mood than he expected he would be that night. "What would you change about how you were raised?"

Wrench raised an eyebrow. "W-o-w. Probably more affection. We were a very unaffectionate family, it would have been nice to feel connected to them. Maybe I wouldn't have ended up a murderer for hire."

Numbers chuckled. "I'm trying to imagine your family. Bunch of gigantic gingers not touching each other, like a v-i-k-i-n-g family. I would probably want more... Space, to myself. My family was so big, there was no privacy. That's why I left when I could, I needed to have room to breathe." He laughed. "That's probably why I became a hitman too. If we could change one thing, we wouldn't have met."

Wrench shrugged. "Or maybe nothing would have been different. Maybe we were just born to be like this. I don't want to think of myself being in some boring desk job instead of this."

Numbers agreed. "Whatever got me here, I'm glad. Cold nights, awful hotel beds, roadside food, wouldn't give any of it up." He finished his beer. "God I'm a sentimental drunk tonight."

Wrench rolled his eyes and looked to the next question. "Tell your life story in 4 minutes."

Numbers frowned. "Could we skip that? Or come back later?" Wrench nodded, signing that it was fine and scrolling to find the next one. Numbers nodded, feeling bad. He didn't want to be a jerk, but the mood was good right now, he didn't want to be a downer, and he really didn't think he could talk about his family without ruining the good vibe. Turning back to the computer, he made sure to put enthusiasm into the next question "If you could wake up tomorrow with any quality or ability, what would it be?"

Wrench rubbed his chin, thinking. "Better marksmanship. I feel bad wasting a bunch of bullets when I should be able to kill someone quickly. You saw how I am with the automatic, I can't aim for shit."

Numbers sipped his drink. "You're not bad or anything. We can practice back home if you'd like." At Wrench's soft smile, he felt himself blush slightly. He wondered why Wrench was always so grateful for the smallest thing, only to remember the no affection comment. Numbers was probably nicer to him than anyone else had ever been. He quickly cleared his throat. "I'd like to cook. I'm sick of take out, I'd love to be able to just eat some plain grilled chicken once in a while."

Wrench shrugged. "I could teach you some stuff. My dad was a cook, I can do stuff like chicken and steak, diner foods. We'll cook after you help me shoot."

Numbers was taken aback a moment. Wrench rarely talked about his family, but he had never mentioned his fathers job. He began to feel more curious about that life story question. Wrench looked at the screen. "That's the end of the first section. I'm gonna go take a shower, can you throw away the trash? We can start again in ten."

Numbers nodded silently and watched him walk off, figuring if those were the easy questions, tonight would be more interesting than he had anticipated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took 7 months, I'm trash. School got crazy then my summer job got crazy and I've been spending most of my free time sleeping. But better late than never I guess!

Numbers yawned, scrolling through the next set of questions as Wrench finished his shower. He'd been trying to imagine what a young Wrench might have looked like, standing in a large kitchen, cooking with his father. However, the mental image had proven difficult. He was so used to the scowling, impassive man he worked with, it was hard to imagine him young and carefree.

 These new questions would involve much more explanation with their answers, divulging more about themselves than he was ready for, but they were too far along to quit now. If nothing else, Numbers was stubborn. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything left for him to do for the rest of the night.

 Wrench walked back in, dressed in a pair of sweats and crisp white socks, toweling off his hair. Shirtless, Numbers got a view of the hard packed muscles of Wrench's body, and wondered what he looked like to their victims. Numbers couldn't see him as frightening if he tried, he knew the man enough to know the difference between the act and the real man. While he may have a resting face of stone, he had sat through enough interrogations with Wrench making faces at him from behind the suspect to take the "hulking brute" act very seriously. For a murderer, he had a very soft center underneath the impassive shell. It made him wonder what he looked like to Wrench; what the goofy grins and unnecessarily over dramatic gesturing translated about who he was. Did Wrench know the real him? Did he himself know what his real self was, or was he too buried under the various alter egos he employed to even know?

 Numbers shook himself. This night was getting too philosophical already, he didn't need to go making it worse himself. Looking up as Wrench returned to his seat, his damp towel tossed over his shoulder, he tried to sign as casually as possible. "Ready for round two?" For a moment, he worried what he said might sound too... He didn't even know. Romantic? Sexual? Just generally too friendly and familiar? Whatever his fears, Wrench didn't seem to pick up on it as he rolled his shoulders and nodded for Numbers to explain the next question.

"Thirteen. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?" He couldn't help but wince at the question, the intimacy of it. He could hardly admit to himself his own vulnerabilities, much less to someone else. But Wrench had already begun answering, so he had no choice.

 "I think..." Wrench paused a moment, considering. "I'd want to know where I am in 15 years. Am I still killing people? Am I in a new town, with a new partner, a totally different life?" He sighed for a moment, seeming to be sobered by the question. "I don't like change, but I also don't like monotony. I don't know if I'd really want to know the answer. It's just... Something I think about." He blushed a bit, just as poor with his feelings as Numbers. But he had to admit, venting the frustration to someone did feel nice. For no reasonable reason, it felt like he was taking control of his fear, if only a little bit.

 "Not to be a selfish ass, but I hope you're not off somewhere with someone else. That would mean I'm either dead or stuck with someone else, and I don't really feel like dealing with either one. I doubt anyone would deal with me as long as you." He flashed a grin at Wrench, aware of how false it felt but not wanting his words to seem too sentimental. You couldn't afford much in this job. But Wrench answered him with a small, gentle smile, filled with gratitude and something else that made Numbers swallow hard. "Anyway, I think I'd want to know..." He trailed off, his hands gesturing uselessly around himself. He knew what he'd want to know, but he was afraid to say it. Maybe he could make something up? Play it off? Say he wanted to know how many sexual partners he'd have or how many more times he'd have to deal with getting shot. But after Wrench had just opened up about himself, he couldn't just give a throw away answer. Wrench had taken the leap, he had to respect him enough to do the same. "I'd want to know who I am. I've lost myself over the years. I've had so many p-e-r-s-o-n-a-s that somewhere along the way, I got lost in them. I don't know what's acting and what's real. Sometimes I find myself acting when I'm alone, for no one. I don't know where I went."

 Wrench looked at his partner, taking a deep breath. He had expected the usual flippant, sarcastic answers Numbers usually gave when things were getting too serious, but tonight seemed to be different. They were in a new territory this time, and he didn't know if he would ever see this side of Numbers again. He nodded at him softly. "I don't think you're anything anyone can really describe. No one is. We aren't just one thing, we're a million different things. So maybe you just need to find the bits of you that are real, and find yourself in them. Your p-e-r-s-o-n-a-s are all one dimensional and easy to define, so you feel like you have to be something like that. You're not though."

 Numbers gaped, unsure how to respond to something like that. "You sound like a psychiatrist." Wrench just chuckled ad shrugged at that, saying he'd been around enough of the profiling guys at Fargo to pick up some tips on how people worked. He grinned at Numbers, and Numbers couldn't help but grin back. Again, for a murderer, he didn't think he'd ever met a man who was so genuinely sweet.

 "OK, fourteen. Is there something you've dreamed of doing for a while? Why haven't you done it?" 

Wrench sat back and considered, rubbing his thumbs over the lip of the table. "You know, I've never been outside of the US? I'd like to go anywhere else, just for a change of scenery."

Numbers chuckled. "Do you speak any other languages? How will you talk to anyone?"

Wrench grinned. "I don't talk to anyone else anyway. You can get a guidebook and butcher all the words, we'll be good. What about you?"

He shook his head. "No, you have to answer the second part too. Why haven't you?"

Wrench shrugged, thinking. Why hadn't he? They'd made enough money that they could take a vacation if they wanted...

"You."

"Me?" Numbers raised an eyebrow and Wrench nodded.

"Yeah, you. Whenever I picture myself going anywhere, you're there too. And I guess I just always assumed you wouldn't want to, so I never did. Like you said, I can't talk to anybody there anyway. What's the point of the Sistine Chapel if I can't make fun of it with somebody? And who better to make fun of fat babies with than you?" Numbers laughed at that, grinning that huge crocodile grin that Wrench loved.

"Well we'll go somewhere then. We can pick a spot somewhere full of things to make fun of, we'll have a great time. Maybe we can back pack it, make fun of all of Europe."

Wrench grinned wider. "Good, no mercy. Now you have to go." Numbers sighed and sat back, thinking.

"Just a heads up, this answer is to be completely blamed on the alcohol." He waited for Wrench to nod before continuing. "Ok. Fall in love. Maybe. But only very slightly, so don't give me that look." Wrench shook his head and pointed to the second part. "Ok, I just... I like the idea of having someone to feel all nice about. And with work, I've never had a chance. And if I'm gonna do it, I don't wanna do that unrequited stuff. I'm not p-i-n-i-n-g like some... Ok, what?" Wrench was grinning like an idiot.

"Come on, it's sweet."

"Shut up."

"I can just picture it, big doe eyes, floating around on a cloud of hearts and roses." He dodged a whack from Numbers. "Sorry, I don't mean to be mean. I get it, I do. I think we've all had those thoughts. It's hard to meet people like this, and you can't exactly tell them about the job."

He looked at the next question "What is your greatest achievement?" They both grinned. "That hit in New Mexico with the sniper." He scrolled to the next one. "Ok, what do you value most in a friendship?"

Numbers shrugged. "Um, having one? I don't know. If someone will be my friend, that's enough for me."

Wrench nodded. "Same with me. God, we're kinda sad, aren't we?" Numbers nodded and chuckled.

"We are, but w're pathetic together. So maybe that's our answer. Someone who can be just as pathetic as we are." He went to the next, clicking his tongue as he read. "Wow, seven more in this set. Ok, most treasured memory?"

Wrench bit his lip. "Huh. Um... I don't know. That's even sadder, isn't it? I guess the best day might be one of the days like this. No work, just kinda hanging out and chatting. Nice and low stress. I don't really have any specific one though. Is that bad?"

Numbers shook his head. "No, I never liked questions like that anyway. Who thinks about stuff like that? And I'm with you, I have no idea what it would be. Maybe that day we ordered a ton of roomservice and ran before we got the bill."

Wrench laughed. "Oh yeah, it was great until you started puking in the bushes and had to take a nap in the park for an hour."

Numbers kicked him. "That's just my charm. Ok, next is most terrible memory. Oh, who wants to talk about that?" But Wrench was already shaking his head at him so he sighed. "Ok, probably my first hit. I was young and thought killing people wouldn't be hard, but I did it and I threw up for three hours afterward and I couldn't sleep for two days. Happy?"

Wrench just looked at him for a minute before signing. "Mine too. I had wasted a lot of bullets and only had one left. I thought hitting him in the heart might work, but I missed. He was just laying there, yelling and screaming and it didn't matter that I couldn't hear it, it was still bad. I didn't know what to do so I just grabbed one of his pillows and smothered him with it, but it took him a really long time to die. I wanted to quit after that, or kill myself, or both." He looked down and Numbers touched his hand awkwardly. 

"I'm glad you're not dead." Wrench smiled at that. It wasn't one of the worlds greatest compliments, but it was still one that meant a lot. Numbers went back to the computer, hoping some less depressing questions would be next, groaning a little as he read it. "If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you're living now?"

Wrench chuckled. "Jesus they just keep getting harder, huh? Well, I'd probably stop killing people and try and get up some good karma. Won't get me out of hell, but maybe a room with a view. Do that Europe trip of ours, maybe I'd even die in Europe. Probably getting killed trying to make one of those London guards laugh." 

Numbers smiled. "Same for me. Less death, more bothering Europeans. That's how I wanna go, b-a-y-o-n-e-t to the face. Hey, this one's better. What does friendship mean to you? Man, very hot and cold with these."

He watched Wrench tilt his head to the side as he thought, looking far too long than he probably should, but the alcohol was quieting that part of his brain enough for him to let himself do this. Just this once. He almost jumped when Wrench finally answered. "This. Friendship is somebody I can sit with, drink beers, make weird plans about Europe trips and be able to talk about things other than the weather. It's why you're my best friend, you're the only one I've ever been able to do this with."

Numbers was dumb founded. Best friend? He didn't know anyone could ever want him as a best friend. Wasn't he insufferable? Wasn't he annoying? Wasn't he the last person on earth anyone would want to be with? And yet here they were, Wrench choosing to goof off with him and actually talk about his life. Maybe that meant Wrench was his best friend too. "Me too, that's what I like about this too. One less thing to worry about." He knew he wasn't saying things right but he didn't know how else to say it, so he turned back to the computer, swallowing. "What role does love and affection play in your life?" They both looked at each other and laughed, Numbers scrolling down. "Share five good things about the other person... Can we skip this too? I don't think I could think of five anything right now."

Wrench grinned. "We're not gonna fall in love at all if you keep skipping all of them, sweetheart." Numbers kicked him so he let him go to the next. "How close and warm is your family?"

Numbers shrugged. "Eh, it depends. We were one of those families that went from hating each other to loving each other constantly. I wouldn't call it warm and affectionate, but I guess it could have been worse."

Wrench nodded. "We were pretty distant, but it could also have been worse. We were the low end of affection, I guess. Next one is the last of this bit, yeah?"

Numbers nodded and scrolled. "How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?"

Wrench chuckled. "A lot of these seem the same. It's pretty ok, not great. Same with you, I'm guessing?"

Numbers smiled nostalgically. "She was the kind of mom I always complained about but that I miss. She would lick her thumb and rub it on my face if I was dirty, always fussed with my hair. It was nice."

Wrench smiled at him before stretching, groaning and rubbing his back. "Can we move to the beds?"

Numbers swallowed but nodded, trying not to let any images come to his head. "Sure."


End file.
